Not So Fabulous Adventures With Loki
by C. M. Remington
Summary: AKA What Loki and his mind-controlled peeps were up to while the Avengers were doing their assembling. In which Clint runs errands while Loki's kind of a dick. Is this humor or is this just crack?
1. My New Boss the God of Mischief

How does Loki's mind control work exactly?

Your eyes turn an unnaturally, bright, blue, and suddenly it seems you've become a mindless drone.

But it's actually really not that bad (though a certain hawk would fervently disagree). You retain your personality, memories, knowledge, and skills, and you're perfectly aware of everything you're doing. This is not a total puppet and puppet-master kind of situation. One thing does change however, and one might say it's the most important thing- your reason for living.

When Loki had first appeared in the heart of the SHIELD base, with a glowing scepter in one hand, Clint's thoughts went something along the lines of: _Shit! Tesseract exploded! Ahhh! Alien intruder, alert! ...The guy looks like a fucking zombie...and what's with the wizard staff?_

"Please put the spear down!" Nick Fury had demanded...politely...sort of...well, he said please. _Uh... don't think that's gonna work, boss._

Then the maniac started shooting blasts of blue energy all over the place, and leaped (_and holy shit he could jump pretty damn far_) onto SHIELD agents who were trying to gun him down._ Alright, he has a freaking magic stick. Okay. Dead agents. Just another day in the job._

Then Loki shot a big, blue, ball of energy at him, and he was forced to throw himself aside to avoid it. He scrambled back onto his feet as quickly as he could, which was apparently not fast enough, because before he could straighten up, Loki was a mere four feet in front of him.

_FUCK!_

Loki looked at him with an unbalanced look in his eye, "You have a heart." _Um, what?  
_

As the scepter tip touched his chest, fear and panic melted away, and a sense of icy clarity washed over, sharpening his mind.

His name was Clint Barton. He only took orders from the man in front of him, Loki, and suddenly his gun had no business being in his hand.

But just because Loki was king now didn't prevent Clint from having his own thoughts.

"I come with glad tidings," Loki said, taking a few strides around the room, "Of a world made free."

"Free from what," asked the SHIELD director.

"Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie."

_Crazy talk is coming out of your mouth, sir, _Clint thought, which of course he didn't say out loud because of course Loki wouldn't like that. Plus, there were more pressing matters at hand, like the build up of tesseract energy that was threatening to blow everyone to kingdom come.

After expressing his concerns, Loki gave him a curt "Well then", and Clint whipped out his gun to shoot Director Fury in the chest. It wasn't that they had some mind-reading mojo going on, simply that Clint was now so attuned to Loki's needs that he could deduce what Loki wanted to happen, and it was _his_ job to make it happen.

From there on out it was all generic action movie material with wild driving and gunshots, Hill and a small army of SHIELD agents on their heels. Clint steered past bullets and flying cars like nobody's business because hey, it was part of the job description. They managed to escape the underground tunnels and get onto the road before the SHIELD base detonated behind them.

Clint continued driving along the asphalt for a while, the only sound was the crunching of gravel beneath tires. The silence was a tad awkward especially since there had been explosions and yelling just a few minutes ago. Clint wondered if he should turn on the radio, before remembering that there was only a police scanner on the truck.

He sighed. A master assassin and an astrophysicist in the front seat and the god of mischief in the back, it was like a setup for a bad joke.

"I need somewhere secure, inconspicuous, preferably with a lab," Loki said, out of the reticence.

"A lab...?" Clint trailed off, remembering Dr. Selvig sitting next to him, "I know just the place, sir."

And so began Clint Barton's (not-so) fabulous adventures with Loki.


	2. Christmas Carols and Triple Murders

"Are we there yet."

Clint gritted his teeth. Apparently being under Loki's magical influence did nothing to prevent him from getting annoyed by him.

"No sir, as I've been saying for the past hour, we still have a few miles to go."

Loki laid in the back of the truck, looking a lot more relaxed than before. Knowing that the people you're with will attend to your every whim and even sacrifice their lives for you probably helped. He and Selvig started talking some science mumbo-jumbo that Clint couldn't make heads or tails of. He heard one of them say "poligravity" which he could swear was not a real word.

After a while, even the science talk died down, and Clint turned on the police scanner in a desperate attempt to keep everyone from getting bored. When the scanner reported a brutal triple murder however, Clint heard Loki snicker (_do gods even snicker?) _and decided to turn it off before his new boss could creep him out any further.

There were six more miles to go when Loki demanded that they sing him a song. Despite his codename being of a bird, Clint couldn't sing for his life and by the look on Selvig's face, neither could he. _Though_, Clint thought, in his defense, _hawks are not songbirds._ In the end, they settled on singing the only songs they knew, the birthday song, and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.

Though it was probably due to their lack of harmony and discordant tunes, but Loki looked distinctly grim after the final line of "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer (_reindeer!) _you'll go down in his-to-ry! (_like Napoleon!_)"

The last two miles lapsed back into an awkward silence until they reached what looked like an abandoned factory or military base. Dr. Selvig picked up the silver briefcase containing the tesseract and took it inside. Loki picked himself off the truck to go in as well, and Clint was about to follow when his stomach growled. _Oh, r__ight. _As if on cue, Loki poked his head out of the entrance.

"Barton. Food. Now." Clint nodded. "Also more minions."

On his way to the nearest town, Clint wondered if he should be bothered that Loki referred to them as "minions", but his musing was cut short by a sudden thought, _what do gods eat anyways?_

He thought for a moment, and shrugged, _ McDonald's will have to do._


	3. It's Okay I Work for the Government

Before going to Mickey D's however, Clint took a detour to visit to a local crime family.

They were all conveniently in the same room of the same building having a meeting of some sort, immersed in a heated debate that involved a lot of cussing and table-slamming, so it was easy for Clint to fire an arrow through the window that released copious amounts of chloroform gas. _Criminals are stupid._

And yes, of course he had an arrow for that. Clint's quiver was the equivalent of Batman's utility belt.

Men in the room were literally tripping over each other to get to the door (which involved even more swearing and some "move motherfuckers!"), which turned out to be locked (cue more swearing), so as the gas cleared, there was an undignified heap of people surrounding the door. Clint climbed into the room to pick up his winnings.

One man was still in the process of passing out, but somehow managed choke out, "What do you want with us?"

"Present for my boss," Clint said, giving a sharp blow to the back of the guy's head to knock him out.

He loaded the soon-to-be minions onto the back of the truck, tying them all together with some bungee cords that he found on the vehicle. A large piece of biege cloth served to hide them from the world after Clint had securely tied and gagged each one.

Clint dusted himself off,_ Now off to find the golden arches_.

Upon entering McDonalds, the cashier girl actually screamed when Clint showed up with bow in hand and quiver of arrows on his back (not to mention the guns in his holsters). She looked about to call the cops on him until he flashed his SHIELD badge, which didn't actually calm her down, but at least she stopped trying to get him arrested.

Clint gaped at the menu for a while, feeling completely out of his element. While gassing people was totally part of his gig, ordering fast-food for the god of mischief wasn't exactly something Clint had been trained for.

To be on the safe side, he ordered a crowd favorite, "Six cheese burgers and three cafe lattes."

"Um...w-would you like to super-size that?" The girl said nervously while punching in his order.

_Loki looked half-dead so..._ "Sure, why not."

Clint stood awkwardly at the checkout while "Baby" played in the background. A different McD employee set a large, white paper bag on the counter, adorned with a large, yellow "M" and the infamous motto, "I'm lovin' it", All the while keeping an eye on Clint's weapons. Just then, there was a bit of commotion outside, Clint grabbed the bag and ran to the exit.

"Wait! Come back! Mister! You didn't pay!" The cashier girl called out.

"I work for the government!" Clint said, not that that was a legitimate excuse.

"Come back for your drinks!" The other worker shouted.

"You can't trick meee!" Clint yelled as he pushed through the doors.

Turns out, some of the to-be minions had woken up. One of them even managed to get his gag off and was screaming bloody murder. The few people in the parking lot were looking at the wriggling biege cloth with horrified expressions on their faces.

"Uh calm down, people," Clint said, taking out his badge again, "I'm a civil servant, and these are... uh... terrorists."  
Clint mentally face-palmed, _Not your best, Barton._

"Terrorists don't scream about getting kidnapped!" someone shouted, "And they don't speak English!"

"That," said Clint, pointing a finger in the direction of the voice, "is untrue and racist."

"The government doesn't bring terrorists to fast food restaurants!" another said.

"How would you know what the government does? We could be secretly holding aliens for all you know!" Clint shot back. A woman actually raised an eyebrow at that.

"That's actually the truth." Clint said matter-of-factly. The woman pulled out her cellphone to punch in a certain three-digit phone number. Clint decided that anything he said would just make things worse, and high-tailed it out of there.

* * *

Author's Note: Just fyi, in my Doc Manager, the files for this story are all labeled "Crack" because that's what this is. Crack.


End file.
